Bringing Life to Death

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Almost a year ago I sat by watching as one of friends cared for those with dementia. She didn’t know them personally, but rather was a volunteer through a local hospice. She offered art classes to them and would go to the library to check out picture books about the parts of the country they were from, in hopes of brining their ever wondering mind back to cherished memories. I knew right away that she, too, was put on this earth to serve others in the end of life process.

When INELDA offered a training in DC last May, I encouraged Nicky to pursue it. Her heart is amazing and her graceful strength is awe-inspiring. After she completed the training, I, again, watched from afar to see where her path was leading her. Fast forward to this fall and she made the decision to be a death doula. I couldn’t think of a better fit for Peaceful Passings!

It is with the upmost pride and excitement that I announce that Peaceful Passings is now a company of two doulas! And thanks to the talented Nicky Hanson, we have a website as well!!! Please check out peacefulpassings.info.

It’s when we surrender, drop the reins and enjoy the ride that we truly know our purpose!

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A blessing way is a ritual and tradition based in Native American culture that has made it’s way into ours. If you’re unfamiliar with it, it’s in lieu of what is our common day baby shower, however, it is to honor the journey of the mother. You don’t bring gifts and play games. It’s a ritual. You nourish the mother-to-be, along with those special invited guests, by sitting around a table and serving a meal family style. The mother’s feet are washed with cornmeal (a tradition in the Native American culture to honor the person by using, what would be precious food for the tribe, to instead be used to wash the feet). One by one the women say how they met the mother-to-be and talk about their friendship and love for each other. The guests can then “present” to the guest of honor readings, poems, and mantras that are special to them, many times these would be about womanhood or motherhood.

Six years ago I hosted a blessing way at my house for one of my dearest friends. As we all sat around remarking on how moving and special this evening was, I commented how amazing this could be during the dying process. It would be spiritually powerful. (Luckily, my friends all know and love me and understand my thoughts and feelings about dying.)

I other evening I was given the opportunity to do just that. A client of mine has a tight knit sisterhood of woman who have been together for over thirty years, through marriages, babies and divorces. They were having a hard time dealing with her impending death and felt like they needed to come together to support each other. I was honored to be invited into this circle. After introductions and pleasantries had been exchanged, it felt that the woman needed a starting point. How do you start this dialogue? I was able to begin the blessing way.

I asked everyone to tell me their story of how they met “Kate” and the love they share for her. And there it started. I sat back and watched as friend after friend told how amazing she is and their history together. I saw them support one another, offer ideas on how to say goodbye and giving each other permission to cry and start grieving. We talked about honoring their journey and the importance of being present. We chanted Om Tryambakam (a healing mantra) together and recorded it so we could play it for her as she was dying (a wish she had made in her vigil plan).

I would love to share a poem that was recited that evening. An amazingly beautiful one written by Wendell Berry and one that I would love to memorize.

“The Peace of Wild Things”

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

Who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

and I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Over a year ago I had spoken to another death midwife about this idea of a blessing way for the dying. She was toying with changing the name. I think blessing way is the perfect name for that night. Death is special, a weird and sad right of passage but one that, nevertheless, needs to be honored and witnessed by love.

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Last week was my fourth time facilitating a death cafe and it never gets old. I love how it’s always different, and therefore, the conversations remain rich and insightful. I continue to set my sights higher. I’m struggling with getting diversity- in color, age and religion. One of the attendees suggested to hold it in a variety of different locations because, as we all know, if it’s not within a few miles from our house, it’s too far away! I loved the energy and vibe of Stir Crazy, so I’d like to have another one there, but also scout out other venues-inner city??? Once school starts, and life returns to it’s regular tempo, I’m going to be venturing out. Maybe breakout of the mold and hold it in a predominantly African American church, a synagogue, or a retirement community.

I read an article about how the elderly want to continue feeling needed and part of the whole. I want them! We want them! They possess an infinite wisdom about end of life that my generation and younger would love to hear. But I’m running into resistance, people saying, “If you post Death Cafes around where they live, that will really upset them”, “that wouldn’t be good P.R. for our facility”…. I can’t imagine that people in their 70+ don’t want to talk about the issues facing them, but our overprotective generation is afraid that if we remind them that they are inching closer to the end, that it will piss them off???? So instead, like most things around death, we pretend they aren’t happening and stick our heads in the sand. So, if there are any older people out there interested in coming to a death cafe, maybe even hosting one, please contact me because the people that are “looking out for your well being” don’t want us to hang out. (That’s a bummer, I think I’m pretty fun to hang with!)

I also wanted to pass along a blog that a gentleman wrote that has come to two of my cafes. It’s a great insight into what Death Cafes are really like from the perspective of someone outside of the “death”industry. Thank you Stuart, aka Jo, for willing to throw caution to the wind and see what death cafes are all about!

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I started this journey over a year ago. I knew that I was embarking on new territory, not only for myself, but for everyone around me. No one knew what a death doula was or what I could offer and provide (I’m not even sure I knew). I continue to remain fluid, understanding that my role will change and morph continuously as the needs of the individuals are as unique as they are.

My last client renamed me. I started working with her in February and she passed, peacefully and surrounded by her family, last Wednesday. After one of our sessions back in March she said that she wasn’t overly fond of the title of Death Doula and said it didn’t capture who I was to her. She lovingly said I should call myself an End-of-Life Transition Coach. I realized how spot on she was. When I step back, all my clients have truly used me during that time of treatment when the thoughts creep in about stopping therapy. The thoughts are sometime just passing ideas, but ideas none the less. They find that when they voice these reflections with the doctors or family and friends, they are offered a pep talk, more treatment ideas, ignored or suggested to contact hospice. Feelings of loneliness and guilt begin to grow.

I am that sounding board. The one that is sometimes too painful for the family and friends to bear. They know I’ll be honest. I don’t dance around the elephant in the room. (I pretty much sit its lap and say, “Hey everyone, we’re here!”) I’ve made peace with sitting in someone else hell, allowing for uncomfortable silent. It’s in that time that life peaks its head up and deep questions can begin to be solved, or at least addressed. I walk next to them. Meg was right. I’m coaching people (and sometimes family). Encouraging and empowering them to write the last chapter of the book they’ve been writing their whole lives. They get to pen the final words. They own it.

Yes, I can still labor at the bedside of the dying but I’m finding that once my clients become empowered to call the shots again, they don’t need me as much. I stand back and watch as they finish the last part of the journey, by their own volition, the way it should be. And it’s beautiful!

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I walked in the door this morning at 1 am and felt so alive and excited about my passion I wasn’t sure sleep would find me. This weekend was my training through INELDA (International End of Life Doula Assoc.) in Pompano Beach Florida. My goal for the weekend was to hone my skills as a death doula but the knowledge I gained from the training was far more rich and soulful. It was a compilation of 30 people, representing 20 states, who felt the calling and saw the need to serve the dying. Although many of the techniques I learned I have already incorporated in my preverbal “tool bag”, the more important part was the deeper knowledge of why they were important.

Henry Ferko-Weiss, the speaker and founder of INELDA, brought me back to my psych 101 days of Eric Ericsson and his stages of development. Of course, as a nineteen year old you really only look at the stages you’ve been through (making sure you came out the “right” side of each choice) and the stage you’re experiencing. Anything after the age of forty was way too far removed for me, let alone the stage at 80! But, as we all know, time flies way too fast and you traverse the stages, unknowingly, as well as you can and now the final one is ever present…integrity vs despair. This is the one that most of us don’t have the key to, nor have time to look for it. We are so unprepared for the idea of us dying that when the shock of a terminal illness strikes, you get into survival mode, literally. There is no time to truly digest whether this whole book you’ve been writing called Life was meaningful, was it worth something, did you learn anything? What do you have to pass on? What it becomes are days filled with doctor appointments, thoughts of your loved ones that you will leave behind, and insurance battles to be had. In the case of cancer, many continue until their weaken bodies have all but been drained of strength and death is chosen because it’s better than the way they are living now.

What we do as doulas is to help you see the legacy you are leaving behind. How the world is truly different because you joined it and decided to show up. We allow time for forgiveness to be given and taken, time to be in the moment, and to honor the sacred space that will be your last. We hold the space for your family so they can just be with the sorrow and to remind you that you are ever alive until you take the last breath.

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Well, I’m so excited that 2016 will kick off Richmond’s first Death Cafe! I hope all can attend. It will be January 10th 1p-3p at Cafespresso on Gaskins Rd. I attached the link to the event site on Facebook. Looking forward to meeting all of you!

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We are doulas of death. A birth doula provides support and guidance to the birthday mother and the brand new life. End of life doulas have forged an innovative approach to the care of the dying by putting emphasis on the importance of relationship and accompaniment. What we do is support. Practical and emotional support for those dying and their families. We should all treat the dying with dignity, but also with deference. Our elderly and our ill should be allowed this as much during death as after birth. Our final moments should be treated with the same importance as those first few moments of life. Let us embrace the end as we embraced the beginning.